Lent
by Lueminut
Summary: Multi-chaptered. Lawliet decides to take a risk, and the loudspeaker supplies.
1. Inquiry

An attempt of making an otherwise sweet-and-fluffy plotline sound serious. This is multi-chaptered drabbling, and my way of preparing myself into writing full-fledged stories.

Eventual L/Light. Let's unravel the situation through this prologue. Mild M, but not as of yet.

As per usual, half-width and critique.

* * *

"You're insane."

Hooded eyes feign self-mutilating remorse, and he mouths with chapped lips. "I know."

L Lawliet doesn't quite recognise the meaning of 'socially-unacceptable'- or, rather, if he does, he has a knack of overlooking such a term. When one leg shuffles forward, Naomi almost wants to reach out and grasp the teen, rattle his bones, tell him just how idiotic his intentions are. Alas.

The misogamist stands, palms pressed in silent prayer, pity burst within her chest painfully, unbearably. Her jacket has roots, they stain her flesh with dye, her bones rot within their spot, and she finds herself motionless to save her friend from this public humiliation. All the while, her prayer is incessant and passionate, pleading for his logic to return, for his brilliance to reawaken.

Alas.

L smiles a slight smile, the sort of smile that surfaces slowly and struggles to spread sufficiently. Naomi desires to deck her companion a good one in his jaw, but his retreating-protruding-slumping is much too far for her fist to reach. Lawliet's arms, she notes with a grimace, are out-stretched within the force of old romantic shows, or perhaps the obnoxious reference to _Titanic_. Perhaps, once he's finished with this immature display, he may be used as a most-embarrassing antenna, to which the student-body could enjoy championship games.

'Or perhaps,' she notes as his hair is damp, stuck and pointed in all directions. 'a make-shift scarecrow.'

His hands are built for puzzles, _suudoku_, crosswords, and sugar-cubes. They aren't built for loudspeakers, to which remains most sinfully on his left, and allows him to voice his darkest musings. His mouth is also damp across the mouthpiece, but Naomi isn't aware of this- Lawliet is, and every drip of rain prickles the hair of his lip.

His lips part, vocals apart. And he speaks, most timidly.

"_Sumimasen_. I'm aware that I may be interrupting the consumption of your meals,"

(Always the intricate gentleman.)

"But I have something important to say."

Students have risen their faces to the intrusion, consisting of a teenager's bellow through a loudspeaker. What exactly was the school's socially-inept genius doing on the rooftop? The announcement was awaited with bated breath.

"Yagami Light-san has… bothered me most profusely as of late. Until now, I failed to understand why his phrases made my stomach aflutter with an incessant prickling. I believed that it may be a part of our academic rivalry, despite the two of us being strangers otherwise, but." Lawliet pauses, knowing that he has stalled everyone's time for far too long.

Aforementioned rival, Yagami Light, arises from his seat, an eyebrow raised. Amane Misa is at his arm, and matches the expression of perplexed abashment.

Lawliet presses on softly, face hung and fringe interweaving lashes. "Though Yagami Light-san must consider this blasé, I consider his aesthetics to be amongst the most pleasing in my years, and as I know nothing about him, it has come to my conclusion that perhaps,"

He presses a palm to his stomach, shutting his eyes to keep his breakfast at bay.

"I'd consider it nothing but a dream if he ever accompanied me to a date."

_Never had the courtyard roared with such bemused laughter._


	2. Response

Chapter I, given the answer.

L Lawliet's idea of _suudoku_ is positively insane.

Light doesn't seem very enthused, but accepting.

Half-width, enjoy and critique, et cetera. Reviews have been an enjoyable fuel.

* * *

The robust youth flicks an amber curtain from his gaze, lips quirking uncharacteristically into an awkward smile. And despite its displacement, Lawliet's knees threaten to give way, and his clutch is strengthened against his pockets.

(Never had he seen such a sublime beauty- and such _pity_ alongside.)

"That was certainly the most, erm, _spirited _of any confession I've heard in my lifetime,"- and the deep, beauteous laugh that follows gives the poor admirer's gut a swirl of humiliation and rapture. Needless to say, his lunch should be coming up at any time now. "Hnn," L nods, he's heard such a thing before. It's a common opener to rejection, and the young man expects no less from this encounter. Should he expect more, he shouldn't be immensely-crushed; however, he may be particularly _sulky _for a good remainder of the year.

A man with no expectation finds no joy, and no sorrow. But Light's pretty face was certainly lost on Misa's classic role.

"I hope my confession hasn't made any oppressing obstacles to Yagami-san, nor to his _inamorata_. I also hope she does not see me as a threat, for that would be most troubling," He continues, biting his thumbnail most precariously. In truth, he would most certainly crave to be considered a threat. He is, however, a realist and gauges his options with no heavy heart.

Light's smile strengthens, and looks most appropriate to his yielding gaze. "You haven't created any obstacles, and you needn't worry." He does, however, note that the opposing male has sharp, long hands- albeit frilled by short, bitten-to-the-quick nails. Out of his previous devotees, L Lawliet was the most… haphazard. "She even thought it was… sweet. She believes she may have once seen it in a film before."

"Does she? I don't recall seeing a film of this nature," The response is timid and tense, pride fallen due to lack of originality.

('She hasn't the best memory to date, unfortunately.' Light remarks, but it's inner and definite afterthought.)

"Nevertheless, it warms my heart to hear that I scarcely bleep on Amane Misa-san's radar of precautionary measures," And here, L presses a hand to his bent chest in a dramatic, if not unusual, display of relief. However, paired with ever-reflective eyes and a most monotone speech, L scarcely bleeps on Yagami Light's radar of sincerity- he notes this with a grimace, much too late to recover damage. 'Nothing like displaying your worst fault in front of one whom you are most sweet on,' Brain notes counterproductively to mouth, and mouth responds with a horridly-placed smile.

Or, rather, a timid bearing of teeth.

"I hate to dub this meeting shorter than intended, but I'm afraid I'll be late- I have a date this afternoon."

Light pauses his smile, rising a brow in question. "Oh?"

"Yes. With a 41-board, samurai _suudoku _sheet." Coupled with that serious light upon his face, Light draws in a breath, pulling his palm to his mouth in suppressed, insistent chuckles.

(This is the way the angel holds his laughter, and L considers it _cute_.)

"You see, my grandfather is an avid problem-solver, and thus decides to invent especially-difficult _suudoku _puzzles for me to solve. This next sheet is claimed as his most difficult yet, and so I'm excited to get started on it. I doubt I'll be spending any less than the entire afternoon on the sheet, however, and so I'm afraid I must get a move on-"

All the while, L makes a swerving motion around the other, eyes darting toward the nearest exit and well-intent on taking such exit- that is, until Light reaches forward to grasp his wrist to keep him still. There is a moment of silence, thick and syrupy, and L's mouth is dry as the month of January in the streets of Osaka.

(_43 millimetres per week- not very dry, but considerably so compared to June's 193-per-dozen._)

"You have guts." Light decides, letting out a strained breath he hadn't known he had taken in. "I'll give you _one _date- we'll see where it goes."

Insanity is now an epidemic.

L thumbs his upper lip idly, rubs a blooming rouge with the pad upon fissures of uncertainty. "The cinema, next week, yes? I have a car."


End file.
